Trigger warning for mild torture. This consists of a lot of Stiles whump so if your not a fan, please don't read on.

Stiles woke with his head throbbing. He immediately tried to lift his hands to grab it in some useless attempt to stem the pain only to find himself unable to move his arms; unable to move at all. He was chained to a chair, shackled by his wrists; in a red room he didn't recognise; surrounded by particularly vicious looking hunters. The Calavera woman stood before him, eyeing him as he slowly came to his senses.

"You're awake." she said flatly. "We can begin."

"Actually I could do with a couple more minutes." said Stiles with a wince. His voice came out exhausted. "My head's still pretty sore."

Suddenly there was a hand in his hair, tugging so that his neck strained and his bleary eyes watered.

"I don't think you and your little supernatural friends quite understand the extent of the problem we have here." said the woman, all too serious.

Stiles grit his teeth when the mammoth hunter behind him tightened his grip.

"Lady, we don't understand anything. Like, at all. So please, tell this bulldozer to let go and I'd be happy to have you enlighten me."

The woman bent over until her face was about a foot from his. There she stood, examining him as if he were some kind of unfathomable yet slightly disgusting piece of art.

"You're human." she said quietly.

"Nice observation." said Stiles.

"You're human, yet you run with wolves."

Stiles shrugged as best he could under the hunter's grip.

"Actually, running's not really my thing. I prefer more of a brisk walk. And besides, it has it's perks."

The woman raised her eyebrows.

"Maybe so, but it also has it's dangers. Perhaps it's time I teach you one of them."

Stiles swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling awfully dry.

"I, uh, I like to think I have a pretty wide knowledge regarding the dangers of werewolf proximity actually. You probably don't want to waste your time on me. I mean, look at me, I'm not worth the effort - I'm not worth much at all really."

Stiles stopped speaking when his hair was released and his head dropped forward heavily, still ringing from the blow he'd received earlier.

"Do you see this wire, Stiles?"

The woman reached forward and gently touched the band of metal around his right wrist. He hadn't previously noticed the black wire that fed into the underside of it. His stomach dropped as he followed it with his eyes, chasing it along the floor to a set of shelves that stood against a wall nearby. There it was connected to a somewhat threatening, bulky device with an unpleasant array of dials across it's front. He'd watched all too many movies to know what this particular set up promised for him. And he prayed heavily that it was merely a scare tactic, but something about the woman's facial expression told him otherwise.

"Do you know what it's for?"

Stiles was quiet now. He nodded as his eyes drifted to the ground, unable to hold her gaze as he tried to stay calm.

"Then it should prove to you how serious we are."

"You had no need to worry about that."

Stiles' voice was anything but confident, though that didn't matter for the woman was no longer looking at him. Instead, she nodded to one of the hunters behind him, and then a large hairless man was stepping up to the interrogation device. Stiles' felt his own heart rate increase tenfold.

"I'm going to ask my friend here to turn the dial, only slightly. Just once." Stiles looked from the machine to his own wrist, then to Calavera, then to the bald man; to the bald man's twitching hand. Panic blazed within him. "Then, I'm going to bring Scott in here. And together, you're going to give me the information I need."

"But I don't know what you need!" Stiles voice cracked then, his composure faltering. "You haven't even asked me anything!"

"There's no reason for me to ask you anything yet."

"But what do you want?" Stiles tugged uselessly against his restraints. "Just tell me what you want."

"I want to get on with this." Calavera stated, expression unchanging. She gave an affirmative glance to the bald man and Stiles tensed all over, unable to keep the panic from surfacing.

"Just wait." Stiles blustered. "No, wait. Please. Stop. Stop! St-"

Suddenly pain and shock were tearing through his entire body, like nothing he had ever felt before, scattering his thoughts into a senseless oblivion. His neck snapped back. He might have cried out, though there was no way for him to know. All he knew was that it hurt like the depths of hell. And that 'just once' was an awful lot longer than what he would've liked.

Eventually it stopped and the world rushed back in. He heaved in broken breaths and his chin dropped onto his chest where he could feel the painful rise and fall rattling through his body. Post-tremors of shock attacked his system causing his hands to twitch and his head to swim. However, he shot upright when he saw that Scott had already been dragged into the room, a hunter firmly holding onto his upper arm. The werewolf looked horrified. And to Stiles' dismay, he realised what Scott had just witnessed. No one wants to see their best friend electrocuted right in front of them. No one. This sucked.

"Scott, I'm okay." Stiles immediately tried to reassure, though the sound of his half strangled voice said the opposite.

Scott made a move forward, his expression turning angry, but he halted simultaneously with the sharp click of something to the right of Stiles' ear. A gun.

Calavera looked at Scott carefully.

"Sit." she said.

"He's human. You have a code. You're not going to kill him."

"Do you really want to test that theory, Scott?"

Stiles felt the steel barrel of the gun press against the side of his head. He daren't turn to see who was holding the murder weapon. He daren't move at all.

Scott's face was a picture of concern and uncertainty. He wavered, but only for a second. Then he allowed the hunter holding him to guide him into the seat beside Stiles. When he sat down, his eyes were on the floor.

The gun was only pulled away when Scott had been secured in place by the same strong metal bands.

"Scott?" Stiles said, concerned at the look on his brother's face. "Scott? It's gonna be okay, alright? We're fine. You know that, right?"

"He knows a lot more than you think, Stiles." Calavera spoke up. Stiles was still breathing hard as he looked up at her, almost angrily. "Like the fact that I'm using you to get to him."

Stiles had pretty much worked that one out for himself. Though it didn't exactly make him feel better hearing it out loud.

He glanced at Scott, who didn't return the look. The werewolf's eyes instead were intensely gazing into nothing. Perspiration coated his brow. And that was when Stile's realised Scott had no clue what to do, and no clue how to get them out of this predicament, or more accurately, this nightmare. Thing's were only going to get worse and he knew it. Great.

Scott knew there was no point in struggling. They would simply put the gun to Stiles' head again and bam, all his werewolf abilities would be rendered useless. All because of one tiny little man made object.

A small male hunter, the one that had been holding the gun, snapped his fingers in front of Scott's face, dragging his eyes from the spot he had them fixed. He looked up at Calavera, who remained as serious as ever.

"I want to know what sort of alpha you are, Scott."

Scott didn't answer. He didn't know how to.

"I have a lot of questions. But those can be saved for another time." she continued, and all Scott could do was look at her. "What I need to know right now is, are you dangerous? Can I afford to let you live?"

Scott frowned in frustration.

"But what do you need Stiles for? He's got nothing to do with this."

"Maybe so." said the woman, emotionless. "But in order to receive a reliable answer, you'd be surprised how necessary he is."

"What do you mean?" said Scott, glancing at his friend who to his relief no longer looked to be in pain. Now he just looked confused and a little pissed off.

Calavera didn't answer him. Instead, she nodded at the bulky hunter who stood behind Stiles. In response, the man stepped forward and grabbed the arm of the smaller hunter who held he gun. The little man made a pained noise and the gun dropped to the floor before the same arm was being twisted behind his back. The other was held out in front of Scott in the firm grasp of the larger hunter. The little man struggled wildly, though his efforts were futile.

"What are you doing?" said Scott, utterly confused. When he looked at Stiles, the expression on the boy's face was in harmony with the emotion he felt.

On the other hand, Calavera's expression was unchanging.

"This is Luis. He is a hunter. And I'd like you to bite him, Scott."

"What?" both Scott and the restrained hunter spoke simultaneously.

"I want you to bite him." Calavera repeated the sentence as if it was something utterly normal, like ordering him to do his chores.

"No." exclaimed Scott. "Why he hell would I do that?"

"Because your best friend is sitting next to you, connected to a torture device, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to see it put to use again."

Scott tensed. He looked at his friend who's face had smoothed into something blank and distant, though Scott could see the fear that ran beneath his skin.

"I don't understand." said Scott looking back to Calavera. "I don't get it."

The woman tilted her head slightly.

"I already told you, Scott. I want to know what sort of alpha you are. Now, bite him."

Scott shook his head adamantly as the hunter's arm was pulled up close.

But then the dial on the box was being twisted. Suddenly there came a strangled sound of agony from beside him as Stiles' body began to spasm.

"No. Stop it!" yelled Scott, the panic rising within him. "Turn it off! Stop it!"

Stiles' feet pushed desperately against the conrete ground. His eyes were screwed shut tight. His hands were balled into fists and his knuckles were white. His teeth were clenched together hard, defining and straining his jaw.

"Stop it!" cried Scott again, and eventually they obliged, leaving Stiles panting and shaking uncontrollably in his chair, pain written across every one of his features.

Scott looked at his brother, horrified and scared.

"Next time it gets worse. Next time the current increases." came Calavera's voice, cutting through his panic. "All you have to do is bite down."

"Scott, don't do it." Stiles' voice was rough and broken, uttered between ragged breaths. "If you do it, they'll kill you. And him." Stiles glanced at the small man who was still struggling desperately in the larger's grip. "They want to know what kind of alpha you are. That means they want to know that you won't do it, no matter the situation. So just don't, okay?"

"Someone make him be quiet."

At that moment, a fist of one of the hunters connected hard with the right side of Stiles' jaw, snapping his head sideways. His chin fell back onto his chest as he struggled to lift his head, obviously dazed by the brutal blow.

Scott jerked in his restraints, furious. The worst thing was, he knew Stiles was right. And that meant there was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

Calavera stared at him expectantly.

"None of what Stiles just said truly matters, Scott." she said. "This is your decision after all. Now, bite him."

Scott looked at Stiles again feeling his chest ache.

"Please don't do this." he said, his voice pleading.

But the bald man was already reaching for the dial again. Scott found himself crying out before Stiles did. But the sounds his friend made were heartbreaking as the dial was turned further and the current increased, this time stronger, unforgiving.

"Stop it!" Scott cried out, tugging against the metal around his wrists frantically. "He's human. He won't heal. Just stop, please!"

"Then bite down."

Scott looked at the hunter's arm in front of him as Stiles writhed; imagined his teeth sinking into the flesh, turning him into something bizarre and inhuman. And he would do it. To stop his friend's suffering, he would do it in a heartbeat. But he knew what the consequences of that would be. Death, and too much of it.

The bald hunter reached out again.

"Wait. No. Stop!"

But it was no use. The man turned the dial again and that was when Stiles' screams stopped entirely. Now he could only jerk silently as electricity pulsed through his body, so tense that Scott thought his skin might split over muscle and bone.

"You're sick." Scott spat at Calavera, unable to control his rage. "We're kids. Stiles is innocent. You're all sick."

Scott pulled, tugged, wrenched, but his hands would not come free. And when the current stopped, the same hunter punched Stiles again and he slumped forward in his restraints, unable to lift his head. He looked close to unconsciousness, eyes half closed and body limp. A dark bruise was beginning to form across his jaw line. At the sight of his friend, Scott's stomach felt hollow and his chest ached. He'd never wanted so much to tear the face off of every single hunter in the room. But he wasn't even strong enough to break out of his bonds. And that made him want to scream his lungs dry.

"This is only going to get harder, Scott." said Calavera, pacing slightly. "How much do you think a body can take before the damage becomes irreversible? Stiles is human after all."

"Screw you, old lady." Stiles uttered, but another punch sent him into silence. There were tears on the boy's cheeks now; Scott wasn't sure when they'd got there.

"Jorge," Calavera addressed the bald hunter. Stiles was so weak he didn't even tense up in preparation for another burst of pain. But it was different this time. Instead, the bald man, or Jorge, left the machine and instead went to pick up the gun that Luis had been forced to drop earlier. He didn't hesitate to raise his arm and point the weapon directly at Stiles whose glossy eyes widened fearfully. The hunter's finger hovered over the trigger precariously.

"No. Wait, just wait." said Scott desperately, and this time the hunter halted. "I'm not gonna bite him. I'm not gonna bite anyone, ever. I promise, okay? I promise."

"Oh, but I think you will." said Calavera. "When the time comes. When the situation is dire enough. When you feel like you have no other choice. You will break that promise. So go ahead, Jorge."

"No!"

There was a sickening bang and Stiles screamed in agony as the bullet tore through his shoulder. The abominable sound awoke something within Scott. Something angry and uncontrollable. It turned his eyes red and spurted claws from the ends of his fingers. He let out a yell, but it came out as more of a roar. And then suddenly the shackles were breaking as he pulled himself to his feet, overtaken with a burning rage. He raked claws across the huge hunter's upper arm and knocked the smaller to the ground with one quick swipe. Then he concentrated his anger on the bald man, charging towards him and throwing him sideways into the wall with ease. There the hunter fell unconscious and unmoving.

Next he grabbed the metal shelves upon which the torture device had been placed and threw them to the ground in a burst of intense force. The machine hit the floor with a deafening crash and fell apart, dials scattering and electricity sparking before fizzling out. He knew he'd cut the connection to Stiles, though when he looked at his friend he saw that his body was hanging lax and unconscious, most likely from the pain. Blood was seeping through his shirt, staining the fabric an awful shade of crimson.

Still raging, he made a move towards his injured brother but had only taken one step when intense, mind scattering shock rushed through his body, initiated by the black rod Calavera had jabbed into his side. It didn't stop when he fell to the ground. It didn't even stop when his vision began to cloud over with black and drag him into sleep. He didn't even notice himself pass out and the darkness swallow him up.

Lydia was the first to rush over when Stiles and Scott were thrown one by one into the dirty bathroom. Scott came around with the motion and his hands shot out before he hit the floor, werewolf reflexes kicking in. Stiles, on the other hand, remained unconscious and hit the ground hard. Lydia dived to her knees beside him, gently rolling him onto his back and cradling his cheek. There was a large ugly bruise across his jaw and and another smaller one forming above his eye. But the most obvious thing was his shoulder injury. It was a bullet wound. A fresh one. Blood still leaked out, too much for such a little injury.

"Scott, what the hell happened to him?" she said, tears welling in her eyes.

Scott heaved himself from the ground, looking dazed.

"They shot him. And electrocuted him. He needs a hospital."

"Electrocuted?!"

Scott just looked at her, guilt imprinted all over him.

"It should have been me." he said, quietly.

Lydia didn't reply. She hadn't noticed Kira and Malia rushing towards them. Kira immediately went to Scott, checking that he was okay, then turned to Stiles, her face creased with worry. Malia looked panicked and she dropped down beside Lydia, grabbing Stiles and shaking him almost violently.

"Stiles, wake up. You've gotta wake up." she said, her voice desperate as if she'd lost the one thing she truly understood in life.

To Lydia's surprise, Stiles eyes fluttered open with the movement. His forehead immediately creased with pain, and the breath he took seemed to rattle and require way more effort than it should have.

"Hurts." he said simply.

Lydia quickly examined him, her heart thudding hard.

"Scott, the bullet's still in him."

"Are you saying we need to get it out?"

"I'm saying we need to get him to a hospital right now, so they can get it out."

"We're in Mexico, Lydia; locked in a bathroom that belongs to a gang of torture obsessed hunters, that just so happens to be in the middle of nowhere. How the hell are we supposed to get him to a hospital?"

At that moment, the door to the room slid open again to reveal Calavera. She didn't enter; merely stood in the doorway, watching them.

Lydia felt the anger build and got to her feet quickly.

"You bitch!" she said, pointing a condemning finger at the woman. "What have you done?! You can't do this. You can't keep us here. You can't!"

"That's why I'm letting you go."

"What?"

"We've received the information we needed. There's no need for you to be here any longer. I apologise for what you've been through, but it's time for you to leave."

"What we've been through?!" exclaimed Scott. "You shot my best friend!"

"And if you leave him with us for a couple of hours, we'll remove the bullet, patch him up and send you all on your way. There's no need to worry."

"You know what, screw you, lady." said Lydia. "Look at him" she gestured to Stiles who now had his head resting in Malia's lap. "You think this is okay? You think you can just torture a teenager and get away with it? Well you can't, okay? You just can't!"

"We did what was necessary."

"And what was that?"

"We taught Stiles here a lesson. You run with wolves; you get bitten. And now we know what kind of alpha Scott is. One that doesn't bite."

Poor baby Stiles. I'm horrible. Okay, so I apologise greatly for the overly abrupt ending. If enough people ask me to write an aftermath chapter I will. I don't know why I wrote this. Thank you for whoever reads or comments though!:)